


You're the Cup to my Cake

by wsakuya



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Celebrity/Fan AU, Desserts, M/M, Rock Stars, fanfic meme
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-17
Updated: 2014-08-17
Packaged: 2018-02-13 11:56:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,129
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2149869
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wsakuya/pseuds/wsakuya
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Desserts?" Himuro pulled out the box filled with different desserts, little cupcakes, decorated with different things like sprinkles or simply white cream. It looked great, almost beautiful. So beautiful that it was actually too big of a pity to just simply eat them. He took the bag with his other hand and walked towards the elevator, along the way his eyes being glued to the green box with the cakes.</p>
<p>Of course he had already gotten a lot of food sent from his fans, but the company would always say it was too dangerous to eat them in case someone was trying to poison him, but those cupcakes, they look amazing. He just couldn't let them leave there, when they literally begged him to eat them.</p>
<p>He probably needed a snatch of sleep very soon, or else other things would start talking to him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You're the Cup to my Cake

Himuro Tatsuya was used to  _many_  things, after all he was the lead singer of the most famous band japan's, GRANRODEO. Never was he surprised about love letters, threatening letters, or some stalker running after him - but  _that_  was new.

On a early Monday morning, after having a celebration party for their fourth album, Himuro came back from the studio, smelling of alcohol and sweat, and at some point probably of vomit. He was the clean type, the type who showered at least two times a day if possible, so he immediately had to go up to his apartment and hop into the shower, and with  _immediately_  he meant  _immediately_.

The doors to the huge building slid open and he quickly stepped inside, making sure to look for the keys in his pockets, and then promptly walked towards the elevator, which, as if on cue, opened with a high-pitched  _ding_.

The hall was clean, sterile, and everything sparkled like in those detergent advertisements. It even kind of smelled like that, of fruits and flowers - not that Himuro minded. He loved that scent. It was sweet and prickled in his nose. You could say it satisfied him.  
  
On the right side of the elevator were the stairs, which were just as clean, even though probably no one in this building had used them even once. After all it had about 20 floors, and probably no one was drunk enough to use the  _stairs_  to get to the floors.

On the left side the postboxes were lined up, as clean as the rest of the big place. They had much room in them, not like Himuro actually used his because every single letter first would be send to his company, so he was always relaxed to come home without finding any fanmail or similar in his postbox - that was what he thought.

When his dark eyes scanned the hall one last time before stepping into the elevator, he caught sight of a bag standing right under his postbox. It was cute, something you would use for a birthday present. It wasn't his birthday though, and it was weird as it was that this thing was there and not at his company. They would never allow to send something like that home to him.

Himuro's face lit up then. He understood. The only way a package like this would be in his postbox, or rather,  _under_  it was because someone came here themselves and left it there. He suddenly felt uneasy, vulnerable,  _watched_ , and looked left and right. No one should know where he lived. It was kept a secret from fans, magazines, and paparazzi, so he would be left alone, so no fan would come over and ask for an autograph, or paparazzis would stalk him, or anything of that sort.

"Oh, come one," the black-haired quietly murmured before going towards the bag. He bent over it slowly, peering inside in case it was actually some bomb one of his haters positioned there. In fact, it was not. It was the complete opposite.

"Desserts?" Himuro pulled out the box filled with different desserts, little cupcakes, decorated with different things like sprinkles or simply white cream. It looked great, almost beautiful. So beautiful that it was actually too big of a pity to just simply eat them. He took the bag with his other hand and walked towards the elevator, along the way his eyes being glued to the green box with the cakes.

Of course he had already gotten a lot of food sent from his fans, but the company would always say it was too dangerous to eat them in case someone was trying to poison him,  _but those cupcakes, they look amazing_. He just couldn't let them leave there, when they literally  _begged_  him to eat them.

He probably needed a snatch of sleep very soon, or else other things would start talking to him.

 

The next day, or rather, the evening the same day when Himuro woke up, he felt refreshed, clean and smelled like that flower shop from across the street.

It was a good choice when he had decided to turn off the telephone because the moment he turned it on again, at least five messages landed in his mailbox. Three of them were from his company telling him different things, apparently not being able to put all that information in one single call, then his mother telling him that she had heard his song in the radio last week and was so excited she just  _had_  to tell him, and the last one from his childhood friend Kagami Taiga telling him that he soon would be coming back to America again, and that it would be great to meet up in that time.

Himuro quickly marked the week in his calendar.

He walked into the kitchen, hair still messy and sticking out of every side, and pulled out a cup out of the cupboard for his morning coffee. It was then when he noticed it - the cupcake box lying on the kitchen table, right next to the colourful birthday bag.

He remembered again, there had been no letter or anything of that sort inside that bag, not a proof that it was from one of his fans, or his haters, or his family or  _anything_.

It was just kind of  _there_ , as if some ghost had brought it here, and Himuro had to wonder whether those desserts were even real or if he started to see things. And sadly it wasn't like he was allowed to eat them because his company explicitly forbid to let him eat things made by people who were not friends or family.

It was just too dangerous and risky to try it out, and they would never hire an innocent person to do that job, in case the food really was poisoned, so they would just throw them away with much regret.

But those cupcakes,  _those cupcakes_ , they looked way too delicious to simply throw them away. He didn't have the heart to do that. It would be too cruel. It felt like they were literally begging him to eat them, and then it was over, he couldn't hold back anymore.

The moment he took his first bite he felt like crying.

_These are perfect, oh my god!_

Himuro ate them without holding back and before anyone noticed that they'd ever existed. He didn't get a stomach problem after that, so  _it wasn't a hater after all..._

 

A day after his heavenly adventure he wondered what to do with the box. Obviously he couldn't just throw it away, but giving it the person in question didn't work either because who was that anyway?

If he had a clue who that god of a baker was, he probably would be a lot happier than he already was.

He decided to keep it as a memento.

 

A week later the same thing happened again. As always Himuro came late from an After Show Party, and with  _late_  he meant nine in the morning.

It felt like a deja vu to him because he smelled of alcohol, sweat and vomit, and wait-  _is that another bag?_

His grey eyes widened, and as if on cue his body moved towards the item, this time another pattern adorning the material. It was cute little balloons on a purple background, different from the last one, it was just more colourful.

Himuro picked up the package eagerly.

"Cupcakes!" he said out loud as if it weren't obvious enough already. Why he always acted like a spoiled child if it was about those cupcakes, he didn't know, but that didn't matter either.

That time there was no letter either, but Himuro decided to leave both of the boxes under his postbox including his own letter, so he could thank the stranger for bringing him those delicious desserts.

Even before showering, he finished eating the cupcakes and writing the letter.

 

A week later the same thing happened again. The two boxes were gone, but for that a new one filled with new cupcakes appeared.

Himuro was disappointed though. No reply. But the cupcakes were delicious as always.

 

The week after that, Kagami arrived, and even a great cook as him was impressed by how tasty the cupcakes were.

Still, no reply.

 

Himuro was done. He decided to wait for the stranger and catch him in the act. If they didn't answer, there was no other way. And he finally wanted to know that person's face. He didn't even know whether they were male or female.

So the next Monday he patiently waited for them, and the first time in forever he was grateful for the stairs in the building's hall because that way he was hidden well, but could jump out immediately if he heard someone coming.

It's not like he actually knew when the cupcakes would arrive, just that they were always already there, mostly he would come home around nine, but he didn't want to risk it either, so Himuro set his alarm clock on 6am and since then waited patiently for his... what were they anyway?

A fan? If they were, they would have replied, right? They weren't his hater, after all he was still alive, so- his baker?

Himuro shook his head and kept his ears on the sounds of the door.

 

Half an hour later, and there was still no sign, but he didn't give up. He was too excited to give up. He felt like some kind of detective, that was probably the most plausible reason for why his heart was beating so fast alone by the mere thought the he would finally meet that person.

 

7 o'clock and still no sign of the stranger, or, really, anyone. Midway Himuro started to play some games on his phone to distract himself from this uncomfortable feeling spreading in his stomach.

 

Another hour and it was as quiet as it had been an hour ago. The black-haired was sure he had dozed off a few times, and when he had, he immediately checked whether there was already a packaged standing under his postbox.

There wasn't.

 

When the clock struck half past eight, Himuro had enough. He was hungry, sleep-deprived and out and out unsatisfied. He wanted to see them so bad, thank them in person, and maybe invite them over for dinner as an apology, but in secret he just wanted to spent time with them, get to know them,  _everything_.

So when the singer stood up to go to his apartment, the door to the building slid open and a tall, purple-haired guy walked inside with a bag in his hand. And Himuro didn't know whether it was because he was sleepy or his sight was a bit blurry, but the stranger was a portrayal of a man. They were as beautiful as the cupcakes he ate every week.

In a dace he walked over to him, eyes glued to that face that looked so completely bored and out of the world at the same time, and then stopped in front of him.

And the moment their eyes met, the moment grey met purple, Himuro had the feeling something was sparking inside him, his stomach got all warm and his throat dry.

The stranger's eyes widened a tad before they turned normal again, half lid and just not interested at all. But Himuro knew there was something in his expression that made him know that the purple-haired was indeed surprised and shocked to see him.

"Those cupcakes are from you, aren't they?" Himuro asked and smiled, pointing at the bag all the while. He probably looked horrible, and his hair was most likely a complete mess, but he couldn't care less because he was just so happy.

The stranger looked down to the hand holding the bag and then said in a very lazy and slurry tone, "Yes."

If Himuro had to find a word for that voice, it would probably be  _jelly_. He didn't know why, but it just suited him so well.

"Why haven't you replied to my letters yet?" he asked then, not angry at all, but still rather sleepy. He wasn't really angry anyway. He was curious. There must have been a reason he hadn't got a reply so far.

The purple-haired shrugged. "I didn't know how to answer. I'm not that good with words or letters."

And Himuro was probably really sleep-deprived as he thought of an almost two meters tall guy as  _cute_. He couldn't control the words coming out of his mouth either, but it wasn't like he regretted saying, "Do you want to go upstairs?"

And that was the story of how he met his  _Atsushi_.


End file.
